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Maren numbly watched the newsreel of Jack Caries’s body covered with a sheet as it was wheeled from Waterston’s home. The next image was of her, wrapped in a deep-blue blanket, her hair matted like a wet poodle’s.
“Here.” Detective Alibi Morning Sun set the coffee cup in front of her. It was a nice gesture—he couldn’t have known caffeine would make her ill.
Her dry change of clothes was a set of heavy, oversized gray sweats provided by the department with Sacramento Homicide printed on the front. She still felt deeply cold. The paramedics had given her drugs, one by IV—she guessed for the shock. But while she felt bone-tired, she could think clearly. They didn’t seem to be the mind-altering type she’d been prescribed for her leg. In fact, that was the problem. She didn’t want to think or to remember any of this.
“We appreciate your statement, your persistence on this case,” Detective Morning Sun was wearing a wine-colored dress shirt, a black tie, and black pants, dressed more formally than she remembered him. He leaned his tall frame against the wall of the interview room, arms crossed. “And your heroism,” he added.
Yeah, right, she thought. She had managed only to save herself. Jack Caries was gone. She leaned over the steam coming from the coffee, breathing in the scent and the idea of warmth. There was a knock on the door. Morning Sun stepped outside.
He returned, trailed by Carlos Sifuentes carrying a computer tablet. The junior detective brought with him a slight almond scent—the soap he used, perhaps his shampoo. “It will not be much longer,” he said, sitting down across from her. “You and your dog will be home soon.”
“Where is he?” Maren couldn’t believe she’d forgotten about Camper, tied in the down position while all the drama had occurred. With the waterfall in the background he could have been barking up a storm and she wouldn’t have heard.
“Our canine unit officer is with him. They’re outside the station walking. The big dog gets around well on three paws, yes? I have a shepherd mix, sweet.”
He adjusted the brightness on his tablet’s screen, then became all business.
“Governor Caries went to Caleb Waterston’s home with a purpose. He brought a specially designed digital recorder. It looks like a cell phone, but with greater audio capacity and without a telltale red light or icon when taping. We believe Mr. Caries, the governor, suspected Mr. Waterston of wrongdoing. He wanted to get the evidence on tape. And we assume Mr. Waterston was forthcoming in conversation because he believed the information would die with Mr. Caries today.”
Maren remembered the phone on the poolside table.
“Members of the media are very busy with this. You will be asked questions,” Sifuentes said. “Chief Watson asked us to share this information with you, for accuracy, to minimize confusion for the public.” He fiddled with his tablet, finding the program he wanted.
Maren sat up straight, running her hands over her face, rubbing her eyes. She reached for the cup, then remembered it was caffeinated coffee, not tea.
“Wallis Lisborne did not kill herself. Simone Booth did not die of a heart attack. Both were murdered by Mr. Waterston. Poison, inside chocolates. Mr. Waterston confessed this to Governor Caries prior to shooting him.”
If there was any adrenaline left in Maren’s body, it was firing now, as she thought out loud. “Because Simone knew about the link between the cell phone bill, the money, and Marjorie Hopkins’s death. Or she was close to finding out.” Her stomach was churning. She pushed the coffee cup farther away.
Sifuentes raised one eyebrow at Maren. The police had just now uncovered that information. He glanced over at Alibi, who nodded at him to keep going. Sifuentes scrolled down his tablet. “Ms. Booth interviewed Caleb Waterston about Senator Smith’s cell phone bill. The one that means we must now drive hands-free. She’d found a possible link between research undertaken by Marjorie Hopkins and jeopardy to the massive profits that Waterston’s client, TalkFree, enjoyed after the bill’s passage.”
“I have a tape of that interview,” Maren said. “I have all of Simone Booth’s interviews that she recorded. It must be in there,” Maren said. “She planned to interview Tamara. That’s probably why she was murdered—Waterston and Wallis knew Tamara wouldn’t lie about the investment account and that it was only one more step to link to Hopkins’s murder.” Maren bit her lip hard. She wanted to scream at not having gotten to the tapes sooner while she was chasing down dead ends in Sean’s case instead.
Alibi Morning Sun stepped out of the room. Sifuentes continued. “We believe Ms. Booth thought only that Mr. Waterston was a source from which to learn about the cell phone bill. She did not, it appears, know that Caleb Waterston stood to benefit personally from Hopkins’s death—from the stock he owned—as did his girlfriend, Wallis Lisborne.” He looked up to see if Maren was following.
“Wallis Lisborne and Caleb? In a relationship?” Maren experienced déjà vu from when Lana Decateau had told her Waterston was engaged to Tamara.
“Yes, they became involved back when Ms. Lisborne was in LA, a stunt-woman on a film Mr. Waterston invested in. They met at a party at the producer’s. We gather from the conversation today that Governor Caries was living in Hollywood at the time, too, and the three knew one another. It was the basis for the investment partnership.” Sifuentes paused to tap the screen. “When Simone Booth interviewed Mr. Waterston, she let him know she had an appointment the following day to interview Ms. Barnes.” He looked up. “It is good that you have evidence of that, the tapes you speak of.” He tapped on the keyboard again and waited for it to load. “Apparently Mr. Waterston, as you said, figured Tamara, part of the investment group but not involved in Hopkins’s murder, might have an attack of conscience.”
Alibi Morning Sun returned. “A friend of yours is here. Polly Gray. I’ve asked her to wait.”
Polly.
Maren realized her best friend—and everyone else—would have seen her on the news. Reports of a governor murdered by a lobbyist would have taken over all the Sacramento stations.
“Status?” Morning Sun asked Sifuentes.
Maren had noticed the junior detective appeared to have trouble presenting information concisely, though she found his soft Salvadoran accent soothing, and she appreciated learning what the police knew. But the look in Alibi Morning Sun’s eyes conveyed something to the younger officer that caused him to speak faster, ticking off points on his fingers.
“One, Marjorie Hopkins was killed by Wallis Lisborne to prevent Hopkins from completing research that might stop the hands-free cell phone bill.” Sifuentes looked up at Maren, acknowledging her role in identifying that link. “Two, Ms. Booth was killed by Caleb Waterston so she would not continue to investigate Marjorie Hopkins’s murder. But Tamara Barnes followed Simone Booth’s lead and uncovered evidence on the Hopkins murder.” He looked up again. “Which Tamara endeavored to share with you outside the state e-mail system since she felt she herself was in danger.”
Maren’s eyelids felt heavy. The events of the day were catching up with her. But she nodded.
“This led to Wallis Lisborne’s attacks on you.” Sifuentes raised a third and then fourth finger, picking up the tempo. “Three and, finally, four—Caleb Waterston decided Caries and Wallis must die. Waterston reasoned that when all of this was done, no one would be left to collect on the investment but him. He wanted to be a very, very rich man.” Sifuentes shook his head.
Maren was tired. So tired. It was too much to take in.
“Four?” Alibi Morning Sun asked.
Sifuentes frowned, looking at the tablet. “Yes. Caleb Waterston and Wallis Lisborne were responsible for four murders. Wallis for Hopkins, Waterston for Booth, Caries, and Wallis. Four murders.” He looked at Maren, then back at Morning Sun. “Four.”
Morning Sun said nothing, perhaps figuring his young detective would get there best on his own. But Maren stood up suddenly, swaying a little. She gripped the edge of the table for support as she spoke.
“There is one murder more,” Maren said. “The one Sean is charged with, the one he’s still in jail for. Tamara Barnes. The similarity in the knife strikes, Tamara uncovering the charge receipt, the evidence against Wallis. Wallis Lisborne must have killed Tamara. What is it you look at—motive, opportunity, means? Didn’t she have them all?” She took a deep breath. “Did Caleb Waterston say anything about Tamara Barnes’ murder?”
Sifuentes reddened, then smiled.
He tapped the tablet again. “Yes. I skipped a screen. Technology is our friend until it is not, yes?” He lifted up a hand, palm spread, all five fingers showing. “Five, it is five murders. Ms. Barnes’s murder should have been second on the list. In fact, it seemed the cause of Jack Caries’s visit to Caleb Waterston. If you like, I can play that section of the audio.” He looked to Morning Sun, who nodded.
Maren sat back down, folding her hands on the table in front of her as she leaned forward to hear.